


Love, Desperation and Monsters

by DoctorDalek



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Desperate Sam, M/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Rape, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-01 00:39:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5185580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorDalek/pseuds/DoctorDalek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desperate to obtain evidence against Tony Crane, Sam Tyler is about to make a mistake he won't forget in his life time... Well, his current life time at least...<br/>And is that a fob watch in his breast pocket?<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to TraditionalGaily for helping me with the story's title and your continued support!

Gene Hunt was right.  
He needed bloody evidence.

Eve wasn’t willing to testify against Crane, and who could blame her?, Sam wondered.  
By the time she had found out what a monster he really was it had already been too late.  
But not this time, no; it wouldn’t be.  
Sam would do anything to put an end to it.  
Right here, right now.  
Even if he had to beat her up herself to frame Crane.

Just a few blows; nothing that could inflict serious damage to her.  
And he could call an ambulance in advance.  
Sam wasn’t out to hurt her; he was just desperate.  
And desperate times called for desperate measures.

He watched with anticipation how Eve slumped down after the first blow to her head...

“That’s your idea of community policing, Mr Tyler?”  
Though an accusation it wasn’t a question Sam had just been asked.  
He’d opened his eyes at the sound of the voice and tried to sit up; it took him a few moments to realize that his muscles failed to respond. Mostly because they hurt.  
Partly, because his hands were tied to his back while his head had been wrenched against a desk.

Only two words in his head, but they said it all:  
_What happened?_

His gaze travelled upwards until he met Tony Crane’s enraged glare, finding two sky blue eyes, glistening with pure hatred; though he ought to have known better, Sam couldn’t bite back a smile.  
Crane’s grave expression didn’t change while he advanced.  
“A heinous crime you committed against ‘er” Crane snarled while ramming Sam’s head into the desk.  
Sam didn’t as much yelp as hiss between gritted teeth, unwilling to give Crane the satisfaction of seeing him squirm.

“You had no right to assault Eve” Crane folded his arms as Sam tried to regain his vision with a thinks streak of blood blurring his sight “She’s innocent. All she did wrong was not telling me ‘bout you right away; otherwise I’d have dealt with this matter earlier.”

“I was trying to protect her” Sam managed to raise his head slightly; he ached all over.  
“By beating her up?” yelled Crane “How’s that going to help, eh?”  
“It helps with my inquiries, she…” Sam growled, the following words choked off by a fist in his stomach; but since he’d started he carried on, “…to testify against…you.”

“Me?” A glint of uncertainty flashed in Crane’s eyes before they returned to the previous dead serious fashion “Why should she? I’ve never giv’n ‘er a beating like you just did.”

“Because she knows…” Sam panted while lifting himself off the desk “…she knows you’re a monster.”  
His brows knitted and his eyes turning into two hateful slits, Sam was finally facing the Tony Crane he knew.  
“I’m not a monster.”  
Sam was surprised to see Crane this calm; but he knew who he was dealing with.  
One moment the air of a reticent young boy, the next moment…  
“You’re a killer” Sam coughed while struggling to straighten up, cursing under his breath.  
“I’m not a killer” Crane retorted coldly, arms still folded in front of his chest.

“Oh, believe me, you will be” spat Sam, trying to look him as fierce in the eye as Crane stared at him, an obvious foredoomed action “Thirty years from now you’ll...”

“Stop.”  
Cranes voice, calm as a clock and cold as ice managed to silence even Sam-mistimed-babbling-Tyler.  
He took one step closer, glaring with his wide open eyes at Sam, taking his injured face in from up close. Eventually he shook his head.  
_Christ, doesn’t he ever blink?_

“You’re mad.”  
Sam growled, puffing up his chest. “At least I didn’t batter my wife to death.”  
“Neither did I” retorted Crane before punching him in the chest, sending Sam tripping and stumbling backwards, “’aven’t even got a wife.”  
Sam breathed in deeply, blinking back the tears.  
His back hurt, the strained muscles in his wrists were close to ripping and every nerve in his body was screaming at him to let it be and, hopefully, get out of here in one piece; or at least remotely alive.

But Sam never knew when to stop.  
“You and Eve, you’re going to get married” Sam managed “and you…”he took a good look at Crane’s piercing blue eyes “You’re gonna turn her life into the worst nightmare she could have ever imagined. And then you’re gonna rape her…”  
“Stop” commanded Crane, but there was no stopping Sam Tyler,  
“…and strike her dead in cold blood.”  
“I said stop!”

With his back pressed against the desk and Tony Crane’s hands at his throat Sam wasn’t feeling as comfortable as he’d hoped.  
“I’m not a killer and I haven’t considered this before” Crane said, as Sam expected, mostly because of the tormented far-off gaze in his eyes, to himself.  
He pressed both hands down hard on Sam’s chest before adding:  
“Until now.”

Sam regained conscience eventually; he was woken either by the sound of blood pounding like mad in his own head or the sudden inrush of pain from his chest as he took a deep breath.  
He looked down at his bruised chest; Crane had managed to break the skin at some point here and there, and after another painful intake of air he was sure that his ribs hadn’t only suffered contusion.

His mind spinning with questions and the unbearable throbbing pain in his chest Sam had failed to notice the chill around his legs.

Opening his eyes wearily he caught sight of his naked body; he’d been stripped to the bone with his hands tied to a bed post.  
His eyes swivelled around rapidly.

“You know... you shouldn’t walk around accusin’ people of things they ‘aven’t done yet.”

Sam gulped as his gaze rose; Crane was standing beside the bed, his crotch at Sam’s eye level.  
“It’s not fair, you know. I mean... I ‘aven’t done nothing wrong.”  
“I’m lying tied up and stark naked in your bedroom” Sam said; he wasn’t sure if that had just been an accusation or realization dawning.  
“Don’t flatter yourself” Crane retorted icily while sitting down beside his head, the bed’s grate squeaking unpleasantly “it’s not my bedroom.”

The cold fingers touching Sam’s cheeks sent a shiver down his spine.  
He trying to concentrate he closed his eyes.  
Alright; he’d fallen into the hands of a psychotic maniac, had enraged him by beating up his girlfriend and he (and that was a major drawback) he had nothing to defend himself.  
_Come on now, Tyler. Think. You know you can do this. You know you can get out of here in one piece. Or alive. We’ll just settle for alive, alright? Right. That’s your target. Just try to_ survive _._

Sam’s eyes snapped open at the disgusting warmth he’d felt on his face.  
He blinked, feeling the soft and warm flesh slapping against his cheeks.  
His eyes widened in horror.  
“What’re you doing?” Sam hissed aghast as Crane’s cock slid over his temples.  
He dreaded the look Crane was flashing him; there it was again, the young playfulness, the thin and dangerous smile on his lips as his eyes sparkled, knowing that he was toying with his helpless pray.

“You know... you made me really curious with all your talking about rape and murder... what does it feel like? What do you _think_ it will feel like?”

Dragging his cock over his lips, Crane breathed quietly, pushing against Sam’s teeth; the first drops of his preseminal fluid moistened his tongue.  
Involuntarily Sam swallowed, shuddering at the bitter taste.

Crane cracked a smile that was possibly scarier than his soulless eyes.  
Sam tried not to show the panic spreading inside of him as he spoke, as confident as possible under these circumstances.  
But he wasn’t desperate; he was just scared.  
Yet there was the trembling in his voice as he spoke, no, _begged_.  
“Let me go.”

Crane didn’t respond to this. He stared at Sam’s stony-faced expression, watching him intently.

“I said let me go.”

Crane smiled. _  
Now_ he was desperate.

Without another word Crane took of his jeans, not just pulling them further down but disposing of them; he knelt down over Sam’s face, leg’s wide spread.  
His panting was not nearly as disgusting as the musky smell from his crotch.  
The _stench_...sweat... dried semen...

Sam pulled a wry face, confident that he’d never swallow ever again in his life.

“Oh come on Sam. D’you think I ‘aven’t seen it?” Crane sat down on his chest, hot and pulsating flesh brushing against beaten skin “How you’re sitting behind your desk at the CID, your hands delving into your tight pants, reaching for your crotch...”  
Crane reached behind him, delicately grasping Sam’s cock; while his hand started its steady up-and-down movement Sam hissed through gritted teeth.

Crane licked his lips; Sam had never seen anyone doing it as raunchy as he.  
“...timidly jerking off, thinking that no-one can see you behind all that paperwork on your desk...”  
“Please... stop” whispered Sam, breathing heavily. “Stop it.”

“What, you’re not even getting a boner for me?” Crane mumbled before adding mockingly “is it that hard, Sam? Can’t you do it on your own? You never seemed to have any trouble at all when your little bird was flittin’ around you...”

Sam winced as Crane increased his grip; his hands struggled against the shackles helplessly.  
“Please... stop, please...”

“So we’re down to begging now” Crane said and cocked an eyebrow at Sam; he tsk-tsked before his vulgar tongue ran over his thin lips.  
“I’ll tell you what, Sam. You’ll just close your eyes and this will be over in no time, go’ it?”  
Though beaten and battered Sam narrowed his eyes at Crane, the last glint of self-respect flashing up.  
“Or” Crane went on, omitting Sam’s hateful glare “you can put up a fight and it will take longer than necessary.”  
Crane put his head on one side, giving Sam a scrutinizing glare.  
“No?” he asked mockingly “Alright. Suit yourself.”

Sam didn’t scream (he barely had enough air in his lungs to breathe); he didn’t cry; he just lay there, defeated and devastated while Crane violated his mouth.  
His jaw was forced open and restrained by Crane’s practised fingers, allowing his dick to slide in and out of his mouth, coating it with his warmness.  
Thrust after thrust Sam felt Crane’s cock poking further, blocking his windpipe, choking him, pushing deeper and deeper.  
The smell was even worse than before, so close, so intense; it was revolting enough feeling Crane’s crotch brushing against his face, but feeling _him_ inside...

“You’re throat’s tighter than I thought” Crane sneered; he picked up the pace, his hips jerking back and forth while he stifled Sam’s air supply.  
Sam had unavailingly tried to bite down on Crane’s dick but the fingers blocking his jaw, stroking his skin and titillating his oropharynx.  
Sam tried to cough, realizing panic-stricken that Crane, painfully penetrating him, clogged his windpipe; his helpless eyes travelled to his violator’s face before gazing over the ceiling, half clouded with anoxia.

He felt Crane’s rock-hard cock pulsating in his throat, scouring, chafing, rubbing him sore, the blood in his mouth mingling with saliva, the pain in his throat, increasing with the hotness upon his lips;  
He fought, helplessly, the handcuffs clashing against the brazen bed post until his knuckles turned white, trying to cough, hopelessly trying to gasp for air.  
And still his throat became tighter around Crane’s cock, daring him to play rougher, as thrust and thrust into his small oral cavity;

Sam had nearly lost consciousness when he found his throat surprisingly free, struggling for air immediately before catching a glimpse of Crane’s grave expression.

As Sam tried to scream for help Crane went back in all the way, ruthlessly and with all the strength his trembling legs still possessed, pinning Sam’s head down onto the cushion while he picked up the pace again, panting, swearing, sweating and groaning, shagging him senseless;  
His teeth clenching and with his hips pushing and pushing he forced Sam deeper into the bed, grinding him in, moaning, coughing with his body temperature constantly rising;  
Straining every muscle and clenching his teeth even tighter he stopped all of sudden, holding his breath, his eyes narrowed to two small slits.

Sam, lying underneath him, deliriously drooling, searched his gaze, hardly able to concentrate anymore with all his muscles twitching uncontrollably.

If Sam had been conscious he’d probably have expected Crane to scream his lungs out as he ejaculated inside of him.  
But no; he just sat there, his hips still moving rhythmically, twitching and jerking, while he elicited a low feral growl.  
Sam’s throat was unclogged once again and Sam sunk back into the bed, too tired to struggle, too sore to scream.  
Crane leaned back, his bare body soaked with sweat, panting and letting his exhaustingly ground out semen trickle down Sam’s raw throat before yanking his cock out, the moist hotness gushing and bedabbling Sam’s numb skin.

Sam coughed, hardly able to breathe properly any longer.

Crane pressed his hands beside Sam’s chest, getting up and out of the bed on unsteady feet.  
Sam wheezed, Crane’s love juice burning all the way down to his thorax whenever he dared to swallow.  
He was too tired to fight and in too much pain to move.

He only wanted this nightmare to be over.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's going to make an unexpected discovery...

Sam’s finger’s trembled as he picked up the steaming cup in front of him;   
it had been nice of Annie to treat him to a cup of tea every morning, sure;  
and, sensitive as she was, she put it there, every morning even before he’d arrive.

Annie knew that he was upset; and she knew when it was better not to ask.

Sam didn’t want to talk about it.  
Glumly he took a sip before lowering the cup, looking back and forth between his tea and the envelope on his table.

He didn’t want to look at it; he dreaded its contents.

It was Crane. It had to be Crane. All of a sudden he’d become number one topic of conversation. He was everywhere.  
Tony Crane knew how to play it. He was still there in his mind; in his _body_...  
Sam automatically disgorged the tea, staring both astounded and shocked at the brown stains on his paperwork.  
He couldn’t forget it; he just couldn’t. When he’d close his eyes, no, whenever he _dared_ to close his eyes he saw it, over and over again... it...   
_Him._..

“Oi, Tyler!”

Sam lifted his head, staring a slightly displeased Gene Hunt in the face. Alright; he was really displeased (because for him slightly displeased could be considered normal.

Sam blinked while his mind tried to snap back into reality. “Sorry guv.”  
He tried chasing back the thoughts into the deepest corners of his mind and slamming the doors behind them.

“I said: Have you got a lighter?” Gene Hunt repeated grumpily while giving him his famous I’m-superiour-and-you-can-stop-pretending-that-you’re-not-caring-about-it look; but Sam was even too disordered to notice it.

His hands had moved down to his breast pocket of their own accord, patting the thin fabric. There was something, yes... something metal... something... round?

Sam stared at the watch he’d protruded from the pocket as if he’d never seen it before. In fact he couldn’t remember seeing it before. It had just been an old watch... Yeah, and he’d forgotten about it.  
Of course; it was stuck, it was old. Of course it was stuck because it was old, but that didn’t really matter did, it?  
Sam stared at the fob watch with slight amusement. Funny, how easy you forget...

“Never mind, Dorothy” Gene Hunt said while taking the fag out of his mouth “I reckon you left it at home alongside your ruby red slippers.”

Hunt was at the door in no time, giving it a violent push just before shouting:  
“And I want you to take a look at the quack’s papers, you got that?”

Sam snorted audibly, hiding his face behind his big tea cup once again.

He knew it. He just knew it. It had been Crane’s case that was tarrying on his desk, taunting him, poking fun at him...

Sam sighed, feeling the pressure upon his chest again.  
He couldn’t keep it up, telling himself that it didn’t happen. It did happen and he had to call a spade a spade.  
He couldn’t keep on pretending that everything was alright.  
It wasn’t. And he had to do _something_...

Absent minded his hand was toying with the fob watch again, dragging a finger over the profound filigree circles on the casing.   
He picked it up, holding it at eyelevel before listening intently.  
It wasn’t ticking, not as such. But it was... whispering?

Sam’s eyes swivelled around, scanning every corner of the dark room. He was alone. There was no one there. And yet...

It was a rhythmic sound; not a ticking but a cadence. A beat.  
A _drumbeat_.

Ignoring the stinging pain in his chest and the throbbing of his temples Sam grasped the fob watch, pushing down the small nub beneath the ring for the chain.

The watch sprang open; and Sam was blinded by the light as hot, burning whiteness engulfed him.


	3. Chapter 3

“You must excuse my patient’s passive-aggressive behaviour, Inspector Tyler. It’s the side effects, you see; the medication doesn’t seem to have the desired effect.”

He’d heard his voice. He could see them. Through the frosted glass he could see the shapes drawing nearer and nearer...

Dr Wilson pushed open the white door after unbarring it; Tony Crane elicited a quiet snarling noise.  
As Dr Wilson approached his companion lurched after him with a distant expression and a look of mild disinterest.

Tony Crane growled while sitting down on his bed.  
Sam Tyler.  
The mad man.

“Oh, and don’t expect him to reply; he seldom does” Dr Wilson went on, his mouth distorting into something only really sick people would recognize as a smile.

With a mind as cold and sharp as ice Sam Tyler regarded Crane thoughtfully. Tony Crane grunted and leaned back, his hands resting on his thighs.  
He looked back and forth between Inspector Tyler and Dr Wilson.

Sam Tyler not speaking for such a long time, that was something new, he reckoned; usually he couldn’t stop blabbering.

And Dr Wilson... well, _that one_ was clearly insane. Tony Crane had never seen Dr Wilson without his enormous milky glasses and came to wonder whether or not he would actually find eyes underneath them.

“I’ll just leave him in your competent hands, then” Dr Wilson said before ruffling Tony Crane’s hair “though I doubt that he’ll contribute anything to your enquiries.”  
He just shambled off after finishing, closing the door as civilized as possible.  
Tony Crane’s glare had followed him to the door and stayed there for quite some time. He had barely barred his teeth at Dr Wilson; but he knew it wasn’t worth snapping at the Dr unless he wanted to spend another week in those horrible shackles, restraint and at the Dr’s mercy.

Sam Tyler breathed in deeply and crossed his arms in front of his chest; he gave Tony Crane a look of odd, quiet calmness.  
Tony Crane snorted.

Too self confident.  
Something was wrong here.  
The Sam Tyler he knew never grinned like that.

“It’s not that bad, is it Tony.” Sam Tyler had started strutting up and down the small room “I’m sure Dr Wilson treats you all right... if he’s in the right mood...

Tony Crane lifted his eyes, piercing blue eyes filled with hatred looking him up and down.

“Thing is, Tony” Sam Tyler went on, stopping in front of him “thing is...you don’t even know what you’re in for; really, Tony, you have no idea.” He spread out his arms, his palms pointing towards the ceiling. “This... now this is only the beginning.”

Tony Crane sat there unmoved; he was visibly haggard, his deep-set sky-blue eyes glimmering anomalously while he glowered at nothing in particular, glaring defiantly at the world in general.

“Look at you.”  
Sam Tyler cracked the most terrible smile Tony had ever seen “All you do is sitting there in this small whitewashed room, snarling at intruders and louring. You’re completely mad! As mad as a March mare, I’d say.”

Tony lifted his gaze slowly, focussing on a point a few inches inside of Sam’s stomach.   
“ _Hare_ ” Tony growled, his fingers twitching slightly; in a lower voice he hissed “wretched rabbit.”

Sam Tyler stared at him for a moment; then he gave a hearty laugh.   
“Come on! You _are_ insane!”  
“Sorry, that’s just the medication talking” Tony said slowly while blinking.  
Sam snapped his fingers in front of his eyes; Tony looked up into a face ablaze with complacency and triumph.   
“I guess Dr Wilson treats you well, doesn’t he? With that pretty mouth of yours... and you are ensnaring him, you know” Sam explained while folding his arms again “That defiant, hurt look you’re always giving him... He must like you, he really must.”

For a moment there Tony Crane looked uncertain. His hands twitched again while he gawped at Sam Tyler. “I... I don’t understand...”

Sam Tyler sniggered. He stooped down to meet Tony Crane at eye level.  
“Oh, wake up Tony don’t you see it? You’re dreaming! This is the worst nightmare you’ve ever had. And the best part is that it won’t be over until I want it to!”

Tony Crane clutched at his head as the throbbing in his temples started again: “Dr Wilson...!”  
Sam Tyler silenced him with a slap in the face.   
“You can scream all you like, he won’t hear you” Sam snapped “Anyway I’m in charge right now and believe me, Dr Wilson wouldn’t want to interfere with my work.”

Sam Tyler’s faint smile became a vicious grin once more when Tony Crane glared at him defiantly.  
Oh yes, he was _so_ going to enjoy this...

“You’re unfocussed, Tony” Sam Tyler explained while looking him up and down “You’ve completely lost your mind. But you know what?”  
“What?” growled Tony trying not to show his fear.   
“You should really concentrate on what’s important right _here_ , right _now_.”  
Tony looked him in the eye wearily, nearly bringing himself to a bitter little smile as he spoke;  
“What’s important now?”

“Trying not to choke on my cock while I shove it down your throat.”

His hands had moved in a blur; the next thing Tony felt was the weight on his chest as he was pinned down onto his bed. It wasn’t the fact that he’d been stripped to the bone without even noticing it that scared him, no; that was nothing compared to the glint in Sam’s eyes.

It dawned on him.  
That wasn’t Sam. The thing may looked like Sam Tyler and talked like him but it wasn’t _him_.

Tony Crane could hardly move at all, every muscle in his body was strained and hurt under the unexpected weight of assumed Sam Tyler. Covered in cold sweat he searched his suppressor’s gaze.  
He struggled for air, trying not to scream while the monster above him wrenched his wrists, trying to twist them until they went snap.

Whimpering quietly and with tear-filled eyes Tony glared at Sam, no longer to hide the fear behind his anger.  
“What are you?” he whispered hoarsely.

“Me?” Sam Tyler’s lips distorted into a terrible smile  
“I’m your worst nightmare.”


End file.
